Rush
by Spacer Paste
Summary: Emotions are tricky things, combine them with guilt and self-imposed isolation they'll take their toll on the toughest of men. Through violence, brutality and danger, Paladin Danse and Sole Survivor Nathan discover love and acceptance in the wilds of the Commonwealth.


TITLE: Rush

CHAPTER: Complete

AN: I don't usually use so much in-game dialogue, but these words are stuck in my head. Time to get'm out and inflict them on you, dear readers. BTW, I totally stole and paraphrased the line, "It's not men. It's him" from somewhere. Ianto, "Torchwood" (Spoken about Captain Jack Harkness) "It's weird. It's just different. It's not men. It's just him. It's only him. And I don't even know what it is really, so no broadcasting it."

* * *

 **Paladin Danse**

Adrenalin is a strange phenomenon, and although I cannot touch it or see it, it undeniably exists. As a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, I learned to use this so-called fight or flight response to my advantage by turning it into actions that molded me into a better soldier. Those experiences also taught me it could take many forms. It might give you a biological kick in the ass and save your life. Occasionally it might root you to the spot even if you should be running for your life, or convince you the time is right to stand your ground.

Tonight, the world I thought I knew ended with the violence and loathing of Elder Maxson's words. After his departure from Listening Post Bravo, the night quieted, but I'm left wondering what to do with this confusing tide of emotion. How do I compartmentalize Maxson's aggressive hatred, as if we hadn't known each other for years? Not friends, exactly. A man like Maxson didn't seek friendship, but we know the measure of each other. I knew his fears, the contents of his ambitions and the constant presence of the specters from his past.

How many nights had we walked the open decks of the unfinished Prydwen sharing a bottle of whiskey? We planned for a future, of a better world living under the guidance of the Brotherhood. With my mind in turmoil and my heart aching, I stared at Maxson's vertibird until the running lights extinguished against the shadowed hulk of the Prydwen. Not since Cutler had, I felt such loss. Above me, the winter stars slowly emerged as if they'd been hiding from the words and intentions of the man I once held above all others. They have not changed, but I have.

I spent years of my life, happily, even gratefully endangering my life to protect our beliefs and Maxson's ideals. How many times had I shouted his name as my battle cry? How could he throw me away so quickly? I knew the answers, of course. The thought of it shames me, and I'm exhausted by the fear and humiliation, while alternately fighting the urge to weep or break everything within my reach.

In a handful of hours, all that I knew had been stripped from me. Everything, that is, except the man standing by the fire waiting patiently while I struggled for control. Perhaps I should blame Knight Nathan for my inner turmoil? After all, he's the one who magically appeared from a vault and stirred things up by asking too many questions. His determination and courage swept us along until we changed the face of the Commonwealth forever by infiltrating the Institute to find his son.

If not for Nathan, I might have gone the rest of my life not knowing the truth. The truth that I am not a man at all, but a synth. A manufactured creature. He's watching me, and I know he's unsure. _Nathan, my friend, my brother, do not forsake me._ As if he heard my silent plea, Nathan approached quietly and placed a hand on my lower back. In the midst of my turmoil as if this were any other night in the Commonwealth he inquired as to the state of my appetite. He took my silent nod as a hint that I was hungry.

The natural movements of Nathan stoking the fire and spearing mirelurk meat to roast calmed me enough to allow me to join him in the circle of light and warmth. The sharp pain of adrenaline has left me weak with relief, both that I would live and that Nathan would stand by me. I tried to cover this unusual state by slicing tatos and opening each of us a Gwinnett Stout. I must draw courage from my friend, face my altered life and make of it what I can.

It didn't take very long before he handed me my food. In that quiet moment of everyday habits, I learned what I always felt to be true, that Nathan was braver than I could imagine. His fingers brushed mine when I reached for the chipped crockery—he insisted on dishes. Although it took all my concentration to accomplish something as simple as grasping a plate, he held on to it until I looked him in the eye. I tried to glance away, aware of heat creeping up my neck, but the memory and warmth the words I had initially dismissed, I care too much about you to let that happen, flooded my brain.

"Danse?"

The warm tones of his voice sent the heat rushing into my face, and my hands shook so hard I released the plate. His eyes held me, and I wondered if I'd ever seen anyone look at me that way...or would again.

"We'll figure it out. But not here."

Yes, I thought with gratitude that he read my mind. We will figure it out. Figure it out in the same we managed everything from strategy, to building a friendship to balancing the bluster of two alpha-males. Still, it took an effort to find a place to sit down and concentrate on the food. A few words set my worries of the mechanics of should we get undressed? How safe is it for us to get undressed and what do with specific body parts and when at ease. Tonight, I will also learn the sharp pain of adrenaline might force words out of your mouth you never imagined saying, then surprise the hell out of yourself when in another rush of conflicting emotion understand those exact words had been real for many months.

So you might imagine the hours after Nathan's response of I was hoping we could be more than friends, to my comment, whatever it is I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met and my wide-eyed assumption of, You, love me? were romantic. Although, I think we both felt a sense of hard-won relief that Maxson had backed down and left us alone to face the issues, which for so long we pretended didn't exist. But you would be wrong. The mechanics of our first expression of affection proved the opposite of skilled or romantic.

Although the crossing of that line would hold us at a standstill the entire evening. I glanced at Nathan's handsome profile across the fire and felt the corners of my mouth lift. He's thinking of location and comfort, and I'm worried about naked? It's not that I'm shy. I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. Cutler used to tease me about being a prude. The memories further calmed me, and I managed a bite of food. It's just that I've been alone for so long…

A shy smile crossed Nathan's features, and he tipped his beer toward me. A synth's mind should be orderly and tonight mine was anything but logical. He cannot love me because I taught him to hate everything that I represent. I am a symbol of all that is wrong with the Institute. Left to fend for myself, implanted with untrustworthy memories to wander the world alone. But I am not alone—my heart fluttered and expanded—and I must not despair because I am loved.

After we cleaned up the remains of our meal and headed back inside the day finally caught up with us. We secured our weapons and toed off our boots, and only then remembered there was a single bed.

"Oh, I didn't think." Nathan stomped his boots on and headed toward the elevator. "I'll stand watch."

After the doors opened his hand shot out to block the sensor, and he paused. He spoke words that I'd never heard. New words. Words that worked like a balm over my tortured soul. He spoke them quietly over his shoulder, like a secret to share.

"Danse, you mean more to me than anything in this world. If only… Look, I underestimated Maxson. My mistake. I thought I could keep it from him. I'm sorry…"

A flash of confusion that took only seconds to translate into rage. _He knew._

"You thought you could keep _what_ from him?" Don't ask the question if you don't want to hear the answer. Where had I heard that phrase?

"I'm sor...never mind. Not a damn thing we can do about it now. I'll wake you in a couple of hours…Get some sleep."

He stopped talking and disappeared into the shadows. My feet moved before I understood my behavior. Fight or flight, indeed. Before the elevator engaged, I caught him and flipped him around against the elevator wall. The car swung menacingly on its two hundred-year-old cables.

"I suggest you explain your comment," I shouted into his startled face. When he didn't respond, I pressed myself against him and forced him to look at me. I searched his face for signs of deceit, but there were only the bright blue eyes of my friend. I looked down to watch his hands flatten on my chest.

"Danse. Listen to me. At the Institute. I noticed a list of missing Gen 3s. The last known whereabouts of synth M7-97 was at the airport. I tried to hide it. Danse, don't you think I knew what it would do to you? You don't even realize how unique you are, do you? How special? It had to be you."

"I am nothing," I choked on my words as I admitted the truth.

"Damn you!" he shouted his anger rising to mine. His fist slammed against my chest. "You're not nothing. You're just about the opposite of nothing… If Maxson had killed you... If..."

His voice broke, and he stopped talking. "Dammit, just come here." His arms slid over my shoulders and tugged me toward him. I gave in to the need for comfort and understanding. Nathan wrapped me in his arms. His touch, the acceptance, the calloused hands smoothing over my back and shoulders triggered the grief. I wept as a man lost in a world that once lay at his feet, but can no longer control.

The next morning, after a sleepless night Nathan made good on his insistence that we leave the bunker. I'd thought to make it my home, but he was right, of course. It was a filthy pit. Made more so because in his eyes these rooms were not good enough for his friend. We stepped into the morning and stopped to admire the blue sky and enjoy the warm rays of the sun's light.

Several minutes went by until I heard him inhale. He turned to force me to stop. "Danse? I love you." His eyes cut away to the horizon.

I waited. Waited for the words that would set the rest of my life in motion. It's all down to him now. We stood there until the birds began to move back into the trees.

"I grieved for my wife, searched for my son, learned to survive and fell in love. And we can talk about how in the hell that's even possible. But I won't allow it to endanger our friendship. Just tell me. If I spoke too soon?"

"You did not."

"You have enough to process. Forget I said anything," David said and patted my chest. "Haylen loves you. You know that, right?" He stopped and adjusted his weapons. "Danse. I want to pursue this…this thing between us, but if it's Haylen you want...I understand. Maybe there's more going on than I…?"

This was a moment I couldn't allow to pass. Not after yesterday and not after the night we spent sitting side by side in the darkness our bodies touching and whispering about everything and anything until finally I felt the weight of Nathan's head on my shoulder and heard his familiar snore. A moment of intense intimacy that had nothing to do with sex. At least, not then. Not yet.

Although all attempts at coherent thought failed, I managed, "I do not wish to forget your words."

Nathan grinned like a boy watching fireworks at the park. It was the unexpected grin of the solemn little boy who lived at Warwick Homestead when we presented him with a Nuka-World squirt gun. I felt my face smile back. Then I followed Nathan into the rising sun and thought about how it all began.

It began…Well, it started the first day we met when a man dressed in a vault uniform and a couple of rotting pieces of leather armor suddenly appeared to help me fight off a dozen ghouls with nothing but one of those pipe weapons. I was down to two squad members, and one of them was injured, so I didn't argue. While I reloaded, I spared a glance at the entrance to the police station where Knight Rhys lay sprawled enjoying Scribe Haylen's attention.

Without me directing him he took a position at my back and started picking off the raging Ghouls. I don't even want to know how close they were. I had three of them in front of me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and adrenaline pushed me to work harder. The pipe rifle went off so many times I lost count. My mysterious stranger kept firing until I expected the rusted thing to explode in his hands. Maybe Cambridge wasn't such a good choice after all.

When it was over and the street empty I found the stranger with a white-knuckled grip on his weapon. I expected...I don't know what I expected. His timely arrival was unexpected. When he turned a pale face to me, I wondered if he were in shock. I took a step closer and put my hand out. When he gripped my forearm, a spike of something hard and primitive raced through my body.

"What were those things…?" The intensity of his voice told me that he wasn't afraid. Confused, exhausted, or lost, yes. With my body between him and the station effectually hiding him from Haylen and Rhys' view, I spoke quietly hoping my tone might provide him with a moment of calm and a frame of reference.

"Ghouls. Feral Ghouls to be precise. They are what remains of humans destroyed by radiation."

His fingers closed over my arm and in the voice of a man who didn't understand his surroundings he cleared his throat and whispered. "But…But, that was two hundred years ago."

"They live a very long time. There are also Ghouls who are sane. They are everywhere here and in DC. They run shops and live their lives as best they can. Never allow the feral ghouls to get close to you. They will rip you apart. They do not deserve your mercy."

"Sounds like good advice." He caught his breath enough to pull two cans of purified water from his pack and held the second one out to me.

Generosity? Here? My squad had been a target since we set foot in the Commonwealth. His actions genuinely took me by surprise. I took the water and drank gratefully. "What is your name?" I blurted and felt my military decorum slip a notch.

"Nat." He shook my hand in a bear hug of strength. "No," he chuckled slightly. "I hate that name. I prefer Nathan."

"Paladin Danse," I responded and released his hand. My heart pushed the limits of my chest and pounded a strange beat. What manner of man was this? "You're from a vault, but how did you get here?"

"I have a pip boy. I found the distress signal and followed it here."

Staring at the shaggy dark hair and pale blue eyes I hadn't noticed the pip boy. "I'm impressed you survived this long with inadequate equipment. You also impressed me with your ability to jump into a fight." My next words were unexpected...unplanned. What if he left? Why wouldn't he? What could I do to give him a reason to stay. "I would like to make you an offer. The Brotherhood needs soldiers like you."

"I don't know much about this world," he said both interrupting me and expertly clearing his weapon. "But I haven't forgotten how to be a soldier."

"Apparently. With the Minutemen?" I inquired. "I don't recognize you as a BOS soldier."

"BOS? I've met a handful of Minutemen? I fought with the US Army. I'd only been home a few months when the bombs fell."

"The bombs?" Of course. It came together. The vault suit, the eyes, exhausted circles like bruises framed the clear blue of his eyes. "You survived for two hundred and ten years in a vault?" The better question was how he survived two days out here?

"They locked me inside a cryo pod. About three weeks ago, the system failed, and I woke up or defrosted or..." With those words, all the bravado went out of him, and the slightly brash young man went very quiet.

 **Knight Nathan**

It's easier to hide the unbidden desire straining against the codpiece of your leather armor by spending your days shooting bad guys and vicious animals. Both of which are distracting enough to keep the thoughts hidden because they can't be right.

Can they?

Sex, desire, and loneliness are things I don't have time for and I sure as hell don't want them. Each day in this new world is a fight for survival. I'm a grown man, and I can compartmentalize those errant emotions. I remind myself that I'm a married man with a family. While I'd prepared myself to withstand the attractions of women, I hadn't reckoned on Paladin Danse. He was handsome. I'd even teased him about his good looks if only to watch him blush. With a head of hair most men would envy and the athletic body of a dedicated gym rat his natural virility unexpectedly shook my knees and sent blood rushing to places I'd taught myself to ignore. The other thing I couldn't define or defend against was the charisma of a man who knew his place in the world.

Look, I can't deny noticing the missing synth list on that computer readout, or that one of them was last seen at the airport. I just never imagined it was Danse. It turns out it was. So, what? The so what is that he's crushed and I can't blame him. I can sympathize with him. Yeah, my world got turned upside down too, Danse. I lost everything and wound up in the Land of the Crazies, aka The Commonwealth.

But he's the least crazy person I know in this hellhole. He's a synth. So what? I watch him try to rationalize this moment of Arthur Maxson's ultimate betrayal, watch him searching for a thread of sanity my hands reach out to comfort him. I needed to touch him, and while we stand outside of this bunker filled with the stench of decay and filth, I want to be alone with him, but I'm not going back inside. And fuck that, I'm not letting him go back either. Where can I take him? Wait. Greentop Nursery is just northwest of here. Perfect. I started a settlement there mostly to provide some security for those robots. But I never went back to set up the antenna. There's a small concrete house with a couple of beds. The robots will ignore us, and maybe I can get Danse to rest. I don't think he's slept in 48 hours. For that matter neither have I.

I headed toward the settlement my heart a little lighter this morning. But the Maxson's behavior intruded. The Elder's cruelty was unforgivable. Dismissing his best paladin as if he were an old dog to be put down. And that's precisely what he meant to do.

"Why is this thing still alive?" He'd asked me as if I knew the answer in spite of months of building respect and friendship that using my laser pistol to blow Danse's head off was the first thing I thought of this morning.

Of all the people, ghouls and mutants I'd killed those words earned Maxson the business end of my weapon. And if I'd pulled the trigger? Maxson would not have hesitated to kills us both. It didn't do any good to ask myself how he could say those terrible things. It occurred to me that I wasn't the cold-blooded killer I saw in myself. It was Maxson's chilling words, 'Flesh is flesh. Machine is Machine,' that told me the truth. Finally.

Goddamn him. If I hadn't started talking…I'm not even sure what I said. The words…any words that would keep Maxson from spinning up that tricked out minigun he likes to carry (talk about compensating.) He could have killed Danse in front of me, and there wasn't a damn thing I could have done except throw myself in front of the bullets. What had Danse said, that he needed to be the example…not the exception?

Once dead, Maxson would hang our heads from the Prydwen's flight deck. I'm not a religious man, but I know...I need to know there's a special place in hell for men like him and Kellogg. I glanced at the man walking next to me our shoulder's brushing occasionally. I stared at his profile and thought that Danse was the most exceptional individual I'd ever met. I wanted to take him away from the sights and sounds of Maxson's vertibird approaching the Prydwen—the place he can never go again. Never stand in the Galley and shoot the shit with Paladin Brandis or tell boogeyman stories to the scribes. Never teach an initiate how to care for his weapon and woe to them who failed to heed Danse's teaching about how to clean and maintain a laser rifle. I always enjoyed watching him in a verbal duel with Teagan.

After an hour of silent walking, we arrived at Greygarden just as the thunderstorm that chased us south let loose. I waived to Supervisor White before I pushed Danse into the small house and closed the faded curtains. Then I lite a fire and heated water for coffee. He didn't speak or move except to step out of his power armor. He left it standing shoulder to shoulder with mine. Everything in military formation, no gray areas…that's Danse.

Tonight was the largest gray area of his life. After a deep sip of two-hundred-year-old instant coffee, I realized I wouldn't be anywhere else but here. My business with the Institute completed the search for my son concluded and the Minutemen back in business. If I had unfinished business, it was this man and his needs. It wasn't just that I owed him, I did. For my life and my ability to move through the horrors of waking up alone in Vault 111. I needed him.

My body hardened in response to the realization. I'd almost lost him yesterday… "Hey," I murmured walking up behind him. "I rigged a shower outside next to the pump. There are clothes in that top drawer. If you want to get cleaned up? I'll heat up something for breakfast. There's mutfruit and clean water, too." My voice trailed off when I realized he wasn't listening. Lost in a void of pain he silently grabbed the clothes and stepped outside.

When he returned, I handed him the food and left him to get cleaned up. I couldn't wait to wash the reek of that bunker off my skin. Decades of Yao guai shit and decaying bodies left the place clogged with a stink there are no words to describe. I've been in some shit holes, but that was over the top and no place for my friend. When I returned, I found Danse on one of the beds with his back against the wall.

"Are you okay?" _Stupid question._ But this time he looked up at and met my eyes. I took that as a good sign.

"If you have a moment. I have something personal I'd like to discuss."

I yanked a t-shirt over my head and sat down next to him. His usually impeccable hair fell over his forehead, and I leaned in to smooth it back. Maybe I shouldn't touch him? Too late. My body flickered to life again until I sent a warning to the damn thing between my legs that I tried for so long to ignore. In the shower, I'd forced it away with logic and common sense. The touch of his coarse hair on my fingertips sent a pulse of something through me I could no longer defend.

"Whatever it is. I'll help you work through it. You need rest and some quiet. I'll leave if you want…?" My voice trailed off when he shot forward and grabbed my arm.

"Don't go."

Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream making me dizzy. I removed his hand from my arm and held it tight. He didn't even try to move away.

"Leave you?" I chuckled and laced my fingers deliberately with his. "It'd take more than what happened today to make me leave you. But if you want to be alone, just say so."

"You're friends with a synth."

"Say what's on your mind," I said keeping my voice low and relaxed to hide the truth of the fire flickering to life deep in my belly.

"I thought this would be easier to talk about. There's so much I wanted to say, but I don't know where to start."

Here came that adrenaline rush again. Whatever I thought he might say had been on my mind too. But how does a married man with a wife and child find those words? I had no idea.

"I don't know if anything will help me work through it. I've spent my entire life….or, at least what I perceived as my life…following a plan to shape my future. But since my banishment, I feel lost…almost like I exist without purpose."

His mournful words tore my heart to shreds, leaving me with tears burning my eyes and the need to protect him from the world. What would he think if I put my arms around him? The moment passed, and he kept talking.

"From the moment since I signed up with the Brotherhood I don't have all the answers. I don't have a plan. And it scares the hell out of me."

Outside, the mechanical sound of the robots working their small farm sounded far away from the shadowed cocoon of the space Danse I occupied. I just wanted to be close to him, to soothe the agony of his betrayal and maybe gain some healing for myself. I had never cried, not once. Even when I ran to the top of the hill overlooking Sanctuary and noticed, for the first time, the devastation. It was too shocking. Too unbelievable to assimilate fast enough to weep over.

Then as I began to find my way, when I met Preston Garvey in Concord the world of the Commonwealth enveloped me in an embrace of a numbing sadness that I shared with so many of the people I'd met. MacCready, desperately trying to keep what was left of his family together. Preston, holding the line to the last man. Cait, a young woman, torn apart by the world, yet she never lost her sass or humor. The others and the settlers each one had touched my life and taught me how to survive. I never saw them weep.

I sat forward so I could look him in the eyes, "What you've gone through would throw anyone for a loop. You're just confused...No, that's not the right word. What a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry."

"You're damn right I'm confused," He shot back with force strong enough to make me release his hand and move away. "I'm a machine that thinks like a human who was trained to hunt the very thing I've become."

Hundreds of thousands of synths destroyed by my hand. How many Gen 2s exploded into pieces at my feet? And I'd killed more than a few Gen 3s. Slaughtered them because that's what was expected of a faithful BOS soldier. The guilt at my decision to murder those synths at Bunker Hill would never leave me.

"Hey," I said softly thinking it might be better if I didn't try to touch him again. "Tell me. Tell me what you need from me." I'd never seen him this angry, or this helpless. This is one thing he couldn't fix, shoot or overcome. His anger lashed out at me sending my heart into overdrive. I should tread carefully. I'm his friend, and I can't take the chance of damaging that relationship. On the other hand, what are friends for?

"Don't you understand? Everything I knew is gone. In the span of a few hours, my identity ripped from me, and my worlds turned upside down. At least what you had was something tangible…something real. Your wife, your son. They were living breathing humans who loved and cared for you. Those sons of bitches who created me couldn't even be bothered to implant memories of having siblings or parents I don't even know how much of my past is artificial or how much is real. Can you even imagine that?"

I swallowed hard and chose my words carefully. "Yes, I can imagine it. One morning, I woke to sunny skies and the sounds of Codsworth in the kitchen and my beautiful wife kissing me good morning. I was a husband, a vet, a father… and that tiny little boy Nora took twenty hours of hard labor to deliver smiled at me every morning from his crib. I'd been looking forward to getting back to work, and Nora settling in as a full-time mom. Holding Shaun in my arms, feeding him and watching him change day by day was a gift.

"Then the world was on fire, and all I could think about was getting my family to safety. In the next instant, I walked out of that vault to a level of devastation I had no words to describe. The beautiful houses shredded and burned. Skeletons of my neighbors scattered over the once pristine lawns. There was Mrs. Humphrey in the middle of the street with her arms around her cat. And Tom, who last week I'd helped with his algebra homework. He'll never learn to throw a fastball or get that A in Algebra. He wanted to be an astronaut or a professional baseball player. And my son," I fought to control my childish tears, but it's too hard. The pain climbed up my throat and tried to choke me. "My sixty-year-old son, dying from incurable cancer."

His eyes flashed, and he moved so quickly I couldn't avoid the hands that gripped my arms and lifted me from the floor. He shouted into my face, "I've started out as nothing, and I've ended up as nothing. And I don't know what the hell to do about it."

"I'm truly sorry, Danse. I guess I never realized how profoundly it affected you." Nice going, Nathan. Perfect. I tried for a gentler tone. "Look around you, Danse. You're tangible. You're real. Take courage from your friends and from those who love you."

He continued speaking. Had he even heard what I said?

"I don't know if its friendship or an anomaly in my programming. After all, I'm not really human."

"Danse?" My stomach bottomed out. The words, here comes the admission, but I wasn't ready. Then he changed the subject.

"Why did you seek the…attention of that woman in the Third Rail?"

There goes that sudden rush of anxiety. Did I need to explain this to him? And why do I feel as if I'd done something wrong? I'd reached the end of my commitment to chastity. That's it. Why is he asking?

"I'm guessing you mean Magnolia? Listen to me. I figured it'd been about a two hundred and eleven years since...Do I really have to explain myself? She was clean and kind. Spoke in complete sentences and for the two hours, we spent together granted me her full attention." What I didn't mention was how she hummed "Good Neighbor" with her talented mouth wrapped firmly around my dick.

"She's a synth."

On our feet and aimed at each other like two bows drawn to the point of breaking, I allowed the churning emotions to fuel my what-the-fuck anxiety.

"Let me get this straight. Are you pissed at me for buying a whore or that she's a synth? 'Cause that seems a bit ironic. I needed a minute, Danse. Didn't seem too much to ask. Or anyone's business but my own."

Danse's eyes cut away as if something unusual just appeared on the wall behind me. I shut the hell up because we were apparently having two different conversations. I wasn't sure I had the strength to keep up.

"I appreciate that. I suppose you're right. I'm just missing the point. My life is starting over, and I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained. Which included something important you've made me realize I don't know if its friendship or an anomaly in my programming. After all, I'm not really human. But whatever it is I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met."

What did he say? This was it, the last card on the table, bluff called. The pleading in his brown eyes lent me courage.

"I feel the same may, Danse. I'm only hoping that it's more than just friendship."

His eyes widened, and the shocked look on his face was just a little comical. This was hardly the time for jokes. Then without warning the anger drained away. We stood their head's together gripping each other's arms. His next words came out like an abused child pleading for recognition and for just once not be wrong about trusting.

"Are you saying you're in love with me? This doesn't make any sense. After everything, the Brotherhood taught you how could you be in love…with…a machine?"

I stepped into the space between his arms. My hands landed on his waist. "If you were just a machine would we even be having this conversation?" I could see the argument forming in his eyes. How could I get through to him? "You're not a machine, Danse."

I pressed the back of his hand to my cheek. When it seemed natural to press my lips against the bloodless knuckles I gave into the instinct. The taste of his skin stirred something to life in me. Hot and hard it flooded my body washing the sadness away and leaving the desire to connect with another human. This human man―suddenly I hated the Institute and the rage toward my son surface. I meant my next words. They were perhaps the most authentic words I'd ever spoken.

"In fact, you're more human than most people could ever hope to be." All the confusing emotions of the last year coalesced in my heart. What I felt for Danse transcended the typical everyday life of my old world. Living in the Commonwealth was about life and death with nothing much in between. I untwisted his fingers and managed to get him to surrender his other hand to me.

"I don't know I'm not certain what the Institute embedded in my brain to handle things like this." He inhaled deeply as if searching for words. "If I were human, wouldn't but be a hell of a lot easier? Nathan?" He raised his eyes to mine. "You are a married man. You chose a woman to...to to have...sex. Why are you here with me, now? If you prefer men...then why...?"

Oh, Danse. I pressed my cheek against his and wrapped my fingers around his jaw. "It isn't men. It's you."

His body tensed with my revelation, but he didn't respond. Instead of whatever I expected, worn thin by raw emotion Danse dropped to the bed, leaned back, and threw an arm over his face. I watched him fall asleep. The furrowed brow smoothed out and his breathing quieted. I had to be near him, touch him and let him know that no matter what we argued about I was here. I settled myself on the narrow bed and spooned up behind him.

 **Paladin Danse**

I woke abruptly to the awareness of someone beside me. My soldier's instincts kicked in and attempted identification. Of course, it was Nathan. I rose on my elbow and in the absolute darkness of the bunker found him watching me. Then he reached up and spread his fingers over my unshaven jaw.

"I don't want to wait anymore. I want this...you." David's breath warm and comforting against my face.

We found each other instinctively. Perhaps to my surprise, the hesitation or shyness disappeared as our lips met. As the kissed deepened, I began to understand. This wasn't a stranger circling my shoulders with his arms and carding his fingers through my hair. I knew this man. I knew the scent of the soap he used so scrupulously, the stubble of his beard as it rubbed against my cheek and the strength of his calloused fingers.

My fingers pushed under his t-shirt and pulled it away revealing the hard planes and sculpted shapes of his muscled chest and shoulders. I spread my hand over the soft curling hair growing so tidily in the center of his chest and followed my hands with my mouth.

The taste of salt and sweat and Nathan spread over my tongue increasing my hunger. He gasped softly when my hand moved to his stomach. He'd changed in the months since our first meeting. His body, which existed in the soft world of stability and a loving family had altered itself into lean muscles and whipcord strength. I suddenly hungered for those textures.

"Nathan?" I whispered against the waistband of his jeans, wondering, yet knowing for sure that exploring his body and tasting his skin was more important than anything else in this world. As if this intimate embrace would somehow prove my words.

When I hesitated, he did the work for me by opening his pants and pushing them down over his hips. I completed the movement by pulling the worn jeans away from his legs and tossed them to the floor. Lean muscles and scarred flesh revealed, his body called to me waiting for me to explore. Nathan shivered under my hands as I swept them up his bare legs. His legs fell open in invitation, and I pressed my lips against the jagged scar on his thigh. I remembered that night. A mirelurk took him by surprise, and he'd barely made it back inside the Castle before it dragged him down. He gasped when my tongue explored the ridges of the plasma burn on the taut muscles of his stomach.

"Danse," he hissed through clenched teeth. I frowned at him but sensed his impatience. There was so much left to explore. I settled between his legs and turned my focus to the straining flesh. I wanted this. I hungered for this man, and I would not fail him. When I bent to my task, he lifted his head from the pillow his mouth forming a silent oh. I found myself unable to make eye contact with him...not yet.

The wiry dark curls tickled my nose as I explored. Touching him wasn't as strange as I imagined. Same working parts, after all. My fingers wrapped around him and when I pressed the first kiss to the glistening head Nathan's fell back. His fingers knotted in my hair, and my name slipped from his lips in a long whisper as I took him into my mouth. The intimacy of our intent and the weight of him in my mouth intoxicated me. My tongue swirled over his length drawing a gasp. He curled around me, cradling my head in his arms and whispering words of encouragement. I followed my instincts and listened to Nathan's words. If I could make him shiver I repeated the motion. If I felt him go still I eased up. The heat and the taste of him changed as I worked my mouth and tongue over him. I felt his testicles tighten in my hand and I took him as deeply as I dared.

His fingers dug into my neck. The strangled sounds he made sounded like, "Danse...baby...move...or..."

I knew what was happening, of course. The wild unexpected freedom of this intimate act sent my mind soaring. When his hips rose off the bed I wrapped my arm around him capturing him against me completely. Then in a moment that was as strange to me as the act itself, my beloved Nathan shattered in my arms. Warm and salty and foreign I accepted the gift of his body into myself. And knew, I was forever changed.

 _This is home―This is where I belong._


End file.
